Berlin or Bust

^{CHAPTER SEVEN} TRAINING

At dawn, the Fallschirmjäger awoke to calisthenics and training. Most of the men had to be issued British parachutes, lacking their own. These had four straps, not two like the German counterpart. As a result, the Tommy paratroopers could steer in the air, though it hardly mattered from a jump height of 250 meters.

Muller marched to the top of the wood platform and jumped into space. His stomach lunged into his throat as he fell the three meters toward the hard ground.

He struck the earth and went into a clumsy roll that left him on his back.

Sergeant Wilkins, the British trainer, clenched his fists. “I thought you were a bloody parachute unit!”

“No excuse, Herr Feldwebel,” Muller gasped.

Actually, he had an excellent excuse. Major airborne operations had all but ceased. He hadn’t received parachute training. Today’s Fallschirmjäger were elite light infantry, not true airborne troops.

It didn’t matter. He wanted to go to Berlin.

“Bloody ball of chalk, this is,” the British sergeant growled. “Get in line, craphat! Do it again.”

“Jawohl, Herr Feldwebel!” Muller cried as the squad groaned. They’d exercised, learned, ate, and trained without pause all day on the cold airfield.

“Good lad,” Wilkins said in German, though it didn’t quite translate. The next man went up to make his practice jump.

The Fallschirm didn’t mind hard training. They’d suffered worse in basic training and in combat. Paratroopers were expected to rush into battle, often against terrifying odds. Many times, they hurried to the front without orders, following a latitude for action unique in the Wehrmacht. They fought to achieve their mission objective until shredded, and even then they’d keep going until victorious or dead. For all this, they took appalling losses.

They were lethargic now, however, their once unquenchable spirit diminished. Few of them slept more than a few hours last night, if at all. They’d lost the war. Their country was being overrun by horrible creatures created by their own leaders, and now they had to make a drop on Berlin to stop the spread.

Aus der traum. The dream really was over, replaced by a nightmare.

“Remember,” said Wilkins, who’d fought the creatures in the Ardennes and Poland, “don’t let them get too close, aim for the head, and never, ever hesitate.”

It sounded simple, but it wasn’t. As the British sergeant had explained, this wasn’t going to be sustained, long-range fire between units moving through cover and concealment to pin and flank the other. In other words, what Muller and the other replacements had trained for, what the veterans knew of battle.

This was going to be getting close enough to fire a reliable headshot against an unarmed man loping right at you, a man who might be wearing a steel helmet. Barring that, a bayonet thrust under the chin up into the brain. The enemy could come singly out of nowhere or rush you in vast numbers.

Miss enough times, allow the undead to get close enough, and you’d find yourself both on the menu and drafted into the army of the undead. If you were bitten but left alive, you had anywhere from three to six hours before you turned, the sergeant had told them.

Colonel Adams sauntered over with his British riding crop to inspect the men. “How are they coming along, Sergeant?”

Muller had learned enough English in his year at university to follow the conversation.

“They’re good soldiers, the best the Jerries have, but we already knew that, sir,” Wilkins said. “I’ll make them good paras.”

The colonel twirled the end of his mustache. “They don’t jump anymore. More than one-half of these fellows haven’t even trained for it, I suspect.”

“Morale’s an issue. They’re a spirited lot, but what we told them last night must have come as quite a shock. Three of them took their own lives last night.”

Muller started at this news. He’d heard about it but dismissed it as rumor.

“All the more reason to get them moving,” Adams said. “The fog over the Channel’s lifted. The operation has been moved up. We’re jumping tomorrow night if the weather holds.”

“Christ.” The sergeant flinched. “Sorry, sir. I meant to say, ‘Splendid idea.’”

Weber hissed, “What are you staring at, Muller? You’ve got an odd look.”

“I’m listening to the Tommies talk about the operation.”

“Oh? What are they saying?”

Muller shushed him and listened. Another paratrooper hit the ground and rolled.

“You feel strongly about the three days?” the colonel asked.

“For an operation like this? Six weeks would do nicely, sir.”

“Monty and Eisenhower won’t hold. You’ve got one more morning and afternoon to teach these men our equipment. The party’s on, Sergeant.” The colonel regarded the Germans with cold hatred. “Quite. Carry on, then.”

Wilkins saluted. “Sir,” he said, pronouncing it sah. He turned to the Fallschirm. “All right, once more around, chaps, then you can go get your scoff.”

Muller returned to the top of the platform and made a flawless last jump.

“Well done, para,” Wilkins told him.

“Dankeschön, Herr Feldwebel.” Muller was ready to go to Berlin.

He wasn’t sure he was ready for what he might find when he got there, however.

The city had gone dark. Most of his memories of the capital were troubled. The hard times of his youth, followed by the stifling paranoia of the Nazis. But he had plenty of happy memories with family and friends. Berlin was home.

His father, mother, sister, aunts and cousins lived there. His university professors, the loud neighbors, the friendly postman, the swearing butcher, the girl he’d flirted with in class but never had the courage to ask out.

Everyone he ever knew back home was possibly either dead or worse, one of those ravenous things.

Whatever he’d find, Muller had to know.

“Excellent progress today,” Wilkins told them. “Your officers will have an update on the operation schedule. Dismissed.”

The paratroopers marched to the mess hall eager for dinner.

“Did you see the lieutenant make his jump?” Beck said. “It looked like a suicide attempt.”

“We should be so lucky,” Schulte said.

The men chuckled. Reiser had particularly hated a British sergeant ordering him around, snapping, “Aufgewärmter kohl war niemals gut.” Take heed of enemies reconciled and of meat twice boiled. An old German proverb.

“The lieutenant isn’t so bad.” Weber nudged Muller. “Now tell us what the Tommies said.”

Schneider growled behind them, “I’ll bet they said we’re going on a fool’s errand to clean up their mess.”

“What do you mean by that, Animal?” Schulte said. “Their mess?”

The big soldier spat on the ground. “The godless Americans made the germ, not us. They dumped it on Berlin and killed everybody.”

Weber nodded. “And then they made it look like we did it.”

Muller shook his head. Schneider and Weber was expressing the weltanschauung, or world view, of many Germans. Everybody hated Germany, and the entire world had united in a global conspiracy run by Marxists and Jewish bankers. The only answer was kadavergehorsam. Absolute obedience until death.

“Why are they sending us to Berlin for a pure sample of the germ if they already have one?” Schulte wondered.

Schneider had no answer for that. “I don’t know how they think.”

Facts and logic didn’t matter when stacked against weltanschauung.

“They didn’t do anything,” Steiner said. “We did it. Get it through your thick heads. We’re the bad guys.”

The men fell silent until Schneider said, “It’s all part of the plan to liquidate the Aryan race—”

Steiner let out a loud sigh. “So what were the Tommies talking about, Yohann?”

“We’re jumping tomorrow tonight,” Muller said.

“Good,” Oberfeldwebel Wolff said from his place several ranks ahead. “Once I’m back in combat, I won’t have to listen to this crap anymore.”

“Are you saying you believe Herr Wolfensohn, Oberfeldwebel?” Weber asked.

The sergeant snorted. “I don’t believe anything the SS says, Kugelfest.”

Schneider’s faced broadened in a smug smile. “So you’re saying you agree the Amis cooked it up to destroy Germany.”

Steiner sighed again. “They’re working with us to save Germany—”

“What I’m saying,” Wolff said tersely, “is it doesn’t matter who made it. It’s here, it’s killing our people, and our duty is to destroy it. We’re going. That’s all you need to know.”